I got off the bus. I must have been 8 or 9. There in the yard was a barking ball of fur. A tiny thing full of hair and life. I think it was a mix of wolf and husky, or something hairy like that. Definitely some wolf in there. I told my younger sister that we had to give him a good name, because if we gave him a stupid name, he'd be a stupid dog. We settled on the very descriptive "Fluffy". I was a kid. We lived in the country. I was always outdoors. Fluffy was with me where ever I went. I went fishing miles up a brook, he was there splashing in the water. I went wandering in the woods, he was there, checking out all the new smells. I went swimming(I can't swim, so more like wading) in the river, he was there seeing what was going on. He was there when I left for school in the morning. He was there when I got off the bus at night. He knew the area around the house for miles, as well as I did. Probably better. We had a few rough patches. He loved to chase cars. One time I came home to find the top half of my pet rabbit lying in the yard because he'd upset the cage and caught the poor thing. He killed a few of our kittens because he played too rough with them. As a kid, you just never really think that he's going to leave you. I moved into an apartment my second year of college. I didn't come home much. I was at college when my parents told me that they'd had to put him down. His health had been going, and he was having trouble walking. I always felt bad that I wasn't there for him at the end. He was the best for me. The very best. I miss him still.
